White Wine
by icor
Summary: Tifa's journey through the worlds, both Square and Disney alike, to get back to the Garden. Of course, with Setzer and Sephiroth by her side it's not going to be easy. [SetzerTifaSephiroth]


Well, it seems my latest project has taken the form of a Setzer/Tifa/Sephiroth fic, and sadly those characters don't get enough love in the fandom. Setzer in particular; I can only find one fic about him. There are going to be many, many Disney worlds featured, so don't worry – this isn't one of those fics that ignores Disney in favour of Final Fantasy characters. This is only part one, and there's much, much more to come. Oh, and the rating's likely to go up. Any feedback would be loved. Enjoy!

**Notes: **There are a fair few Final Fantasy IV/VI characters making brief appearances throughout the entirety of the story, and while having some knowledge of them helps, it isn't vital; after all, they're Kingdom Hearts versions of their original selves, and so their back stories and the like are slightly different. Of course, there are still plenty of KH canon characters and Disney characters throughout.

-----

**Chapter One**

There is a silence that can't be shaken weaved into the roots of every heart. A silence that keeps even the smallest parts whole, that builds up in the eyes of every person and screams in protest. Flickers of light and dark entwined. A silence that you can only ever feel against your finger tips when you've had your world crumble to dust beneath your feet and seen the the pin-hole night sky become just that little bit duller.

Even the Heartless have it. It's that dull glow that flashes in their hollow eyes that doesn't quite look sickly; hesitant, almost. The glow that tells you they're very aware of what they're going to do to you, and that they almost wish they could feel remorse.

And of course, Tifa had it too, bundled up in her hand this time. She lived in a world that didn't yet know of the Darkness, or of any the _other_ worlds for that matter. A world still stuck in the illusion of purity, where Tifa Lockhart was the only sign that evil might really exist.

Clenching her fist around the scrap of paper Tifa took a deep breath. This might really be it, after all the months of searching, and the the years of reluctant defeat; she might really get home. Twilight Town was not a bad place in any sense of the word—she did not object to the fact that the floor wasn't crumbling beneath her feet, nor the fact that she didn't have to worry about Heartless stealing her heart—but it just wasn't _home, _and she had lived in enough worlds by now to learn that it was a never good idea to get too attached to any one place.

And so she had lived there for two years, alone in her silence. People didn't ask her many questions, and so she had little to say; she was running away, they said, because they just didn't understand. _Couldn't_ understand—who here would believe stories about dancing Shadows that lept off the walls, even when there was no light to cast them?

But that didn't matter. She knew she wasn't running; never had been. She was crawling back, still in too many pieces to stand tall and walk, but she was getting there, never giving up.

Standing on the edge of the Sandlot, hidden from the pounding sun under the shadows of the tall buildings, Tifa tried not to smile and failed. The biggest danger of depending on something almost hopeless was being optimistic; she should have been all frowns, waiting for the worst to happen, and being grateful if anything else came of her situation.

The Struggle was one of the biggest events of the summer, held at the end of the break so that the kids weren't too disappointed to know that the holidays were coming to a close. They had one last thing to look forward to before the dreary routine of school started up again. Tifa had been there since the early morning and, at the recommendation of a young girl named Olette, had made her way through four sea-salt ice-creams. Unfortunately, she had been so distracted by the event she'd ended up letting most of them melt and chewed on the sticks mercilessly.

There had been one other Struggle since she had been a resident, and at that time she had been too busy actively avoiding socialising to attend. She understood the basics of it: beat your opponent with a bludgeon until you had the most orbs, or something to that effect.

Tifa chuckled a little to herself: if she went along, chances are she could have easily have won the Struggle. Then again, there was something that disturbed her a little about beating children until they were black and blue.

Hayner and Pence, friends of the Olette girl, were sitting on the bench opposite her, indulging on ice-creams of their own. They spoke to her occasionally, asking if she had seen _him_ yet. When she replied no, always with a sigh, they grinned and assured her that he'd be along soon. _Soon_.

Hayner, the blond haired boy, was in a sulk. His preemptive declarations of victory had fallen short of realisation, and it had only been half an hour since Seifer had narrowly beaten him. He was currently alternating between licking his ice-cream and pressing it against the bruise forming at an alarming rate on his forehead. Olette watched on with a frown, occasionally brushing his hair to the side. After all, the last thing anyone wanted in this heat was sticky hair, and Hayner did not seem to mind the attention; if anything, it softened his scowl.

Adults had gathered around too, people who Tifa recognised from day to day life, but she found that she could not put names to any of them. A small group of women had formed a little circle, voices shrill with excitement, and Tifa suspected that they were waiting for the same man as her. It was going to be more difficult than she first thought, trying to talk to him, if they had all come to cheer him on and admire him relentlessly. She was dreading the likely queue for autographs.

Her eyes were fixed firmly forward, never leaving a bright red orb that had been forgotten. She felt bad about it, honestly, but the young boy to her right made her too uncomfortable to let her eyes rest upon him. The child was bizarre, and didn't fit in with any of the other townsfolk, yet no one said anything. He reminded her of the mythological Black Mages, the ones that Merlin had told her stories of as a child, dressed in a heavy hat and boots, even during the thick of summer.

But worse than that, his face was black and his eyes burnt yellow; a sheep in wolfs clothing, and not a very good disguise at that. She had been terrified the first time she saw him—two worlds she had lived in had been raided by the cruel Darkness, so why not make it a third?—and wondered why no one else was screaming.

Vivi, his name was, and he was nothing but a young boy. A young boy who seemed to be staring at her.

"H—hey," Tifa said awkwardly, not sure if he was waiting for a few words from her.

He waved energetically, and was probably smiling under that blue collar of his. If he even _had_ a mouth, that was. There wasn't a bad bone in his body, and more importantly his heart was in the right place, and yet he was a strange child indeed. Tifa felt her fist relax and let her hand open.

"Vivi," she began, clearing her throat as she did so. "What do you know about this... Setzer?"

"Setzer!" Vivi exclaimed energetically, voice full of glee. "He's the reigning champion. I want to be just like him one day!"

Tifa could not help but smile.

"Pence told me the same," she said, gesturing over to their table, "But do you know anything else about him?"

Vivi looked thoughtful for a moment, rubbing the side of his hat with a gloved finger.

"People call him the Wandering Gambler."

Wandering gambler? Tifa lost her smile and felt herself become flat. If he really was just a gambler like Vivi said, and there was no reason not to trust him, then he certainly wasn't the man she was looking for, or the man Cid said would help her. She felt foolish for a moment, for letting herself get her hopes up, and opened up the piece of paper she had been holding tightly to all this time.

She checked it so often that it was as if she was afraid the ink was going to fade, and read the words so intently that her gaze should have worn them away.

But the words were still the same, and Tifa took a deep breath. She could only wait and see. Turning to Vivi she went to ask him another question, but the announcer's voice boomed out before her lips parted.

"Welcome to the finals of this year's Struggle!" he called out, and paused as the crowds cheered. "As you know, young Seifer, who bravely battled his way through to the finals, will face our defending champion, the one and only Setzer!"

There was another ripple of excitement through the crowd, and Tifa felt her heart jerk at the mention of the stranger's name.

The long silver hair looked familiar for a split second, but Tifa quickly shook the memory from her mind and took in the rest of him. A rich purple coat hanging over his shoulders, complimenting a white shirt and high boots was far from what she had expected—something more like Cid had stuck in her mind these past few years; perhaps someone older, with the fitting mess of oils and grease streaked through his hair and across his clothes in rough patches. All in all, he looked... well, regal, she supposed. He didn't fit in with the atmosphere at all.

Of course, this did nothing to confirm or destroy her hope; Tifa had never seen a picture of the man before, and Cid didn't have time to describe him. She watched with hungry eyes as this Setzer swung the bludgeon with ease, hitting and tripping Seifer and jumping with grace to avoid the youth's returns. By this time Hayner was standing atop the bench and screaming support for Setzer.

The match didn't last long, and there was no confusion to as who had won. Setzer kept his champion belt and held up the trophy in one hand, all smiles and polite waves for his fans—particularly the women. Without even thinking about it, Tifa had taken off and a brisk pace and was heading straight for him.

As expected a small crowd had formed around him, and Tifa pushed her way through, mumbling her apologies as she brushed against the shoulder's of other women and stepped on their feet.

"Excuse me!" she called, voice not breaking the excited chitter-chatter going on all around her. "Excuse me, Set—!"

"Now dear," a cheerful looking woman with a red face said with a laugh. "We _all_ want to get his autograph."

"No, no, this is important," Tifa murmured," Excuse me, excuse—"

It had been some minutes and Tifa's polite grasps at grabbing his attention were doing her no good. Setzer was quite clearly relishing in the attention, doing his best to speak to everyone around him, shaking hands and hugging the lucky few. She could feel herself turn red and flustered under the summer sun, and irritated by now by being lost in the crowd, Tifa boldly lent forward and grabbed his arm and pulled him over.

There were a few gasps from the crowd, and Tifa could almost hear them roll their eyes. They whispered cattily amongst themselves, laughing and adding something about being over-sexed. Setzer's coat had almost fallen off and he was adjusting it, eyes not meeting hers. Despite almost tripping over his own boots, Tifa assumed that Setzer was quite used to being manhandled by his fans like this.

"Are you...," she began hesitantly, feeling foolish in front of so many, "Setzer Gabbiani?"

Most of the crowd laughed at her ignorance, but Setzer seemed kinder. Her nodded with a smile, still dusting his shoulders off.

"_The _Setzer Gabbiani?" Tifa asked, but shook her head as soon as she realised she wasn't being very clear. "An old friend of Cid?"

The named seemed to have earnt her his attention easily enough. His eyes narrowed and an excited smile flickered across his lips.

"You're aquainted Cid del Norte Marguez?" he asked eagerly.

Tifa only blinked. "Excuse me?"

"No? Perhaps not then," he sounded a little disappointed, but did not give up, "Cid Randell?"

Shaking her head, Setzer rubbed his chin with his first finger and thumb and looked thoughtful.

"Cid Kramer?"

"No, I mean Cid—" Tifa said, desperate to interject his guessing game.

"Oh, of course! Cid Fabool. A fine man, if I do say so myself. Strange, but fine." Setzer smiled in his self-proclaimed victory, but there was a little confusion in his eyes, as if he was not sure how to help out the dark-haired woman.

Tifa shook her head, but waited a few moments before saying anything else, just in case Setzer was going to make anymore wild guesses.

"Cid Highwind," she said with a slight smile, hoping he'd know her Cid just as well as all the others.

Up until now Setzer had looked vaguely amused if anything, but all of a sudden he took a much more serious expression. This time he grabbed her arm, pulled her over and whispered.

"You know Mr. Highwind?" he asked, sounding wary and excited by the prospect at the same time.

Tifa nodded. "Please, I need to talk to you."

Setzer looked hesitant for a while, glancing around at the crowd who weren't quite sure what was going on. Gossip and barely concealed whispers were at an all time high, and Tifa's heart was racing so fast that she could feel it pounding in her chest and hear it racing in her ears, and it was enough to make her feel dizzy. It really _was_ him; and she had the terrible feeling that he was going to turn her away.

Clearing his throat and raising a hand made the crowd fall quiet.

"I thank you all greatly for coming out to support me, as I know many of you do every year, but I regret to say that I must be off, for now at least," he said, and Tifa could not help but notice there was a certain charm in his voice.

Tifa smiled in a way she forgot she could, not sure how to thank him. Setzer shrugged as if it was nothing, gently let go of her arm, and looked around the Sandlot.

"Is there anywhere I can get a drink?"

-----

Within five minutes, and after an uncomfortably quiet walk, the two ended up in Twilight Town's little bar-slash-restaurant; both seated awkwardly on the stools, and neither one not entirely sure what to say to the other. Tifa did not particularly like the idea of coming here, firstly because she wanted to talk to him somewhere more private, where people wouldn't overhear; and secondly because she had held down a job there for almost two years, and her boss Jessie was giving her wicked smiles from the other side of the bar. Tifa was still burning red from the sun, and the woman's eyes were only making her feel worse.

She looked down to the glass in her hands, biting her lip as if to keep her flood of words in. Setzer wasted no time in ordering hard liqueur the moment he sat down, and had not hesitated to buy Tifa a drink. He had not cared for her No-thank-yous, and she was relived; she had downed half of the glass in one go and only stopped because Setzer was watching her with an amused grin.

"Is drinking going out of fashion then?" he asked, wrapping his lips around his own glass.

She was sure that he was mocking her, but there was something altogether too friendly and gentle in his voice for her to take offense. Tifa laughed nervously, knowing that the drink wasn't going to make her feel any braver. She thought over what to say, the same way she had for every night that she couldn't sleep, trying to find the best way to say such odd things. In the end, she blurted it out.

"Is it true that you can fly to other words in your airship?" she asked, speaking fasted and louder than she had meant to.

If she had said the same thing to any other person in Twilight Town, they would have either looked at her as if she was mad, laughed, or a combination of the two. Setzer, as it happened, did no such thing and simply looked proud. His eyes lit up as he looked at her, in a way that she had not seen before, even when he was basking in his apparent fame in the Sandlot.

"Of course I can!" he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I built my wings in my home world, and mastered world-skipping with Cid."

Tifa felt herself visibly relax, one elbow leaning against the bar. It was just as Cid had said; Setzer was one of the only other men in the universe (or universes? Tifa wasn't sure) that flew just as well as he could; could fly _better_ than him, he was reluctant to add. Everything was going far too well.

"But I'm confused," Setzer continued, and Tifa was sure he really meant 'curious.' "Just what are you doing in such a place?"

It was like a flood of relief rushing over here. Tifa didn't know just how she was going to explain what had happened, and now she had been given the chance to pour out what she had never been able to say to another living soul. She had been disconnected from her own world for so long that her memories felt like fantasies; sometimes, her past seemed like nothing but echoes of a picture book.

"You met Cid in... ?" she asked, needing her facts straight first.

"Traverse Town."

"Traverse Town, alright. I'm—_we're—_not originally from there. We're from a world called Radiant Garden, but when I was young the Heartless took the world for their own," Tifa paused for a moment, breathing deeply, not sure how much he already knew, and Setzer patiently waited for her to continue. "Almost everyone was... was... only a few of us survived. Six—no, seven of us. We ended up living in Traverse Town."

"Strange," Setzer mused, swirling his drink in his cup. "Cid neglected to tell me all this. I could have sworn Traverse Town was your home."

"Traverse Town is the places I've lived in the longest, more than ten years, so it almost is. But it just doesn't feel the same. Together we all worked as hard as we could on finding our way home, but the same thing happened to that world. The Heartless started invading, and even thought we had more warning, they still... crushed us."

Tifa paused for a moment, and while he was listening, Setzer did not seem to have anything to say. Her head was spinning, and she was in desperate need of questions to cut her thoughts into a rough stream.

"One night, thousands of them raided, and I almost... lost my heart," she said, fingers unconciously gripping at her chest, and Setzer seemed to cringe at the words. He lent closer, and there was a little comfort in that. "Cid fought them off, but in the end they dragged me into—"

Tifa was abruptly forced to a halt as Setzer tapped her knee, pointing behind her. Her focus returned and she fell back into reality. One of the barmaids was standing behind her, ready to take their now empty glasses. Tifa watched her walk away, glasses clinking in her hand, waiting to continue her tale.

"The Heartless managed to pull me into a portal. I... don't really remember what happened next, but when I woke up I was laying in the streets here."

Setzer was silent for a moment under the weight of her words, and Tifa wondered if he knew where she was going with it all. She wasn't sure how she was going to ask so much of him herself.

"Let me guess," he said finally, trying to sound gentle, "You want me to take you with me?"

"Yes!" Tifa exclaimed, almost jumping off of her stall.

Closing his eyes and shaking his head regrettably, Setzer continued.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know where either of these worlds are now. And besides, I go where my wings take me."

"Please..." was all Tifa could think to whisper, eyes glazed over with utter disappointment.

"I'm afraid not, Tifa. Even if I did allow you on my airship, there's no guarantee that we'd ever find any of these worlds. What kind of a life is that to lead?"

Tifa slammed one fist against the bar, and Setzer looked taken back.

"Better than whatever I have here. _Please_, Setzer, you don't understand! Cid gave me your name—gave it to all of us—during the raid, saying that you'd be our only hope if we became separated. I've lived so long in the hope of meeting you one day," Tifa pleaded desperately.

Setzer sighed deeply and pulled himself to his feet. There was just no getting through to this girl. He pulled his coat from his shoulders and wrapped it around himself, and took a few steps away from the bar.

"Do you mean to say that you're willing to come aboard, even in the knowledge that it may be futile?" He said without looking at her.

"Setzer?" Tifa asked, not quite believing her ears. "You mean it?"

She ran to his side, and when she looked at him he was smiling brilliantly.

"What a risk to take!" he murmured to himself, striding out of the bar happily.

-----

It was only half-ten when they strolled out of the bar, Jessie waving goodbye energetically and raising her eyebrows at Tifa, and Setzer took it upon himself to walk Tifa to her front door. She promised him she wouldn't be more than ten minutes gathering all of her belongings, and left him to stand on the doorstep, arms folded as he rested against a street lamp. Somehow she wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of a stranger coming into her home, and at the same time realisation dawned on her. She was going to be _living_ with this man who she knew nothing about, other than that he liked to fly through the depths of space. There was little to take, and she managed to thrust the past two years of her life into two tiny suitcases.

Tifa did not manage to stick to her word—eleven minutes, by Setzer's watch—but he said nothing of it, and the two walked under soft street laps to the station. There were more words flying between them, no importance in any of them, but Setzer was glad of the company. He glanced down to Tifa once in a while, eyes lingering and wondering just how long it had been. A few of the catty women from before watched them walk past from their windows, and it suddenly occurred to Tifa that she was never going to see these people again.

In a sense she wasn't sad about it at all; only sad that she hadn't taken the time to make friends, and for some reason she wanted to say goodbye to Vivi.

Luckily they managed to catch the last train, although Tifa did not know where too, and Setzer said little the entire journey. He looked trouble; sad, almost, and Tifa realised that she had gotten his character all wrong. He might have seemed like a bit of a ladies man around the Sandlot, but now he seemed resigned, quiet and polite; he had even held the door open for her, and sat a respectful distance away from her in the carriage.

"How did you end up visiting Twilight?" she asked, trying to make conversation.

"Just did," he replied, eyes closed.

"Shouldn't you know something about me?" she continued, not giving up her attempt, "I mean, I'm going to be living with you, in effect."

"I'll take my chances," he said with a flicker of a smile that vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Tifa gave up after that and resigned herself to watching the scenery fly past, trying to figure out just where on earth they were. They had already passed the beach some miles back, and now all that they came across where odd hamlets. Setzer didn't seem to be paying attention to where they were, but after around an hour he stood up and announced that they were "here."

Here didn't seem to be anywhere, Tifa though, not looking very impressed. The scenery was bland, with no buildings in sight. She put her hands on her hips and began to protest, but Setzer managed to stop her. He pressed a finger against her lips and she froze.

"Turn around," he almost sang.

And behind her, half shrouded by the dark was the monstrous airship, casting them into shadows like a towering giant. And after she got over the initial shock of seeing it, she began to panic. Cid build _spaceships,_ strong metal contraptions, and most importantly safe looking. Sure, it was so much bigger than Cid's little gummi ships, but the damn thing was made of _wood, _and if she was right, probably ran on steam. It looked as if it were better suited to the rolling waves.

Setzer noticed her obvious concern, and she could see him smirking, even in the dark.

"The Falcon!" Setzer introduced the airship with overwhelming pride. "The finest airship you'll ever find, built by the finest mechanic you'll ever meet."

With that he turned his back and began to walk up the plank towards the deck. His seemingly cocky statement did little to convince her, but she followed him anyway—it had been one long, amazing day, and she wasn't about to give up now.

It wasn't until she was standing on the deck and gazing around in awe around her that she realised they were still in the open air. She glanced over at the wheel in the centre, assuming at it was the ship's control and went pale.

"This is where the controls are? But we're in the open air! We can't go into space like this," she protested all at once.

Setzer laughed. "Magic."

"Magic?"

Tifa knew relatively little about magic, but as far as she was concerned it was precises mechanics, not spells, that were going to keep them safely in the air. Merlin had his spells, but even those were limited and often backfired, and her friend Aerith's healing magic had no tremendous power behind it.

"Yes, a barrier of sorts."

"Oh," Tifa said, not feeling completely calm yet. "Do you really pilot this thing by yourself?"

"Almost," he said with a shrug to brush the question off.

"Amazing. Just how long did this take you to build?"

Shaking his head Setzer ran his hands over the wheel, looking down at it affectionately.

"This isn't my airship. It was built by a... friend, a long time ago. I just look after it for her."

"Your friend?" Tifa asked, thinking a little company wouldn't go amiss. "Where is she now?"

"Dead," Setzer replied quite abruptly, and Tifa fell silent. "Or at least I think so. She's wherever people go when those Shadows take their hearts."

"... I'm sorry," was all Tifa managed to say, but it didn't really matter; Setzer knew that Tifa understood exactly how it felt.

"Now my ship, on the other hand, was a fine vessel," Setzer said with a smile, suddenly brightening. "The Blackjack! It never was space capable though, and got lost in the raid. That's why I fixed up the Falcon, and flew around until I met Cid. We took it apart, and found out just how it worked. She had an amazing mind that girl; nothing scared her."

By now Tifa was standing with her back to him, running her fingers across the handrail sadly. The Darkness was taking away the most important people, one by one, and without mercy.

"What was her name?" she asked.

"Daryl," Setzer said fondly.

There was a respectful quiet between them before Tifa suddenly felt the deck roar beneath her feet.

"No time for the past," Setzer said, using all his strength to turn the wheel. "We're off. Grab onto something!"

Tifa had no time to think, but settled for wrapping her hands around the rail, eyes alternating between watching Setzer and the ground below them that was rapidly sinking. Setzer was furiously hitting buttons and pulling levers, and managing to make an art of it at the same time. Both hands were busy, until he felt they were high enough and he raised one arm above him and stretched out his fingers.

He was whispering something to himself, but Tifa could not hear it over the engine and tearing wind. And then all of a sudden there was a flash of brilliant light which spread out and wrapped all around them, glimmering like shards of stars, even thought they weren't in space yet.

Tifa's eyes glistened as she stared at the supernova-turned-barrier, but it was quickly replaced by a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. As if by cue a second barrier wrapped itself around them, but it did not seem to come from Setzer's fingertips. She squeezed her eyes shut as if it would make her feel better, and when she opened them again black was all around her and she was still seeing stars. She would have paused to take in the simplistic beauty of space, if only her head wasn't spinning. She cursed her own sensibilities, and then cursed Setzer; Cid had managed to fly with more grace, even when the preliminary Gummiship possessed little more splendor than a pealing tin can.

She felt Setzer's hand on her shoulder, and he guided her down the steps to the main room of the Falcon.

She felt a little more comfortable inside where she wasn't staring into the pitch black, but the ship was still rocking beneath her feet. The best way to describe the interior was to say that it reflected Setzer's clothes and mannerisms _perfectly_; there were two sofas opposite each other in the centre of the room, decorated generously in shades of deep purple and red, surrounded by various tables that made it look as if he had raided a luxury casino: a roulette table at one end, accompanied by a poker table, several slot machines and devices that Tifa did not recognised. So this was the true nature of the Wandering Gambler then.

"We didn't get the chance for a second drink at the bar," Setzer said behind her, and she jumped. She hadn't realised he'd left her side, much less heard him rummage through cabinets to mix her a drink.

He placed it in her hand, and excused himself with a wave.

"Make yourself at home. Your room is the second on the left, down that corridor. But for now, I must pilot my ship."

He left Tifa in a daze, and she sat down at one of the craps tables, playing with the dice between her fingers. The glass was cold in her had and soon depleted; she wasn't sure just what she was trying to achieve, but she rolled two sixes after about ten attempts and it made her smile, so she didn't put too much thought into it.

Brushing two fingers across the soft green surface she stared at her discarded suitcases left at the bottom of the stairs, and with watering eyes considered going to bed. From what she could see there were two room leading off of the one she sat in, and a short corridor leading to three more rooms.

The moment she pressed her hands flat against the table to stand, Tifa heard feet thudding against the the floor, and all of a sudden her heart was beating just as fast. Instinctively she raised her fists and moved as if to turn around, but the feeling of a blade against her throat stopped her dead.

"Explain yourself!" a woman's voice exclaimed coldly, thrusting the sword forward that tiny bit more. "How did you get here?"

Ever so slowly Tifa turned on the seat to face her perpetrator. The woman couldn't have been more than a few years older than her, and her soft blonde hair and green eyes made a startling contrast to the angry blade in her hand. Tifa was not as foolish to think she could fight her way out of this situation, and there was no need to; she was probably what Setzer meant when he said he "almost" did everything himself. Still, she didn't dress quite as extravagantly as Setzer, though what she was wearing resembled armor.

"I suppose I'm part of this crew now," Tifa said finally, making sure her voice was level but not looking all too sure of what she was saying.

The woman did not look convinced and the sword still lingered around her throat, not wavering an inch.

"Tifa Lockhart," she added quickly and breathlessly, "Setzer said I could come aboard—I'm trying to get back to my world."

Her eyes softened and the sword fell to her side. The stranger laughed a little, sheathed it, and Tifa sighed out of relief. She'd expected a somewhat quiet journey, not swords thrust at her within half an hour of arriving.

"So Setzer's finally making some friends then," she said flatly, clearly unimpressed. "I'm gen... no, Celes Chere. Just Celes."

Tifa watched her walk across the room, and felt a little offended. She had at least expected her to apologise for attacking her without reason the moment she laid eyes on her, and she seemed to think that an introduction in a spiteful, almost scathing tone was acceptable. Celes simply sat down one of the sofas, clearly with no intention of saying anything else.

"Are you lost too?" Tifa asked, walking over to the unoccupied sofa. Despite Celes's facade, and the look on her face that said she just didn't want to be bothered, her curiosity got the better of her. "Is that why you're here?"

Celes, with her arms folded and eyes shut, replied as if it was a foolish question. She has the same sort of air around her as Setzer, whereby she seemed troubled and arrogant, only a little more brittle around the edges. Her whole attitude made Tifa wonder what Celes was to Setzer; whether she was a lover or a relation, or something else altogether. She certainly had that same far-off look in her eyes.

"Not at all. I simply owe Setzer a huge debt."

Tifa nodded, not entirely sure of what she meant, but did not have time to question her further; Celes rose to her feet and began to walk away the moment Tifa sat down. Standing a safe distance away, Celes looked at her long and hard. Tifa felt herself sink into the sofa a little, not liking the way she was being judged, but not breaking her gaze.

"You look like you need a good drink," she stated, and Tifa nodded once more; a third wouldn't hurt, and it certainly would help calm her nerves. Celes seemed to be making a half-hearted attempt at welcoming her in her own way, and Tifa decided it was best to stay on her good side.

When she pulled the bottles from under the small bar, Tifa realised that Celes certainly seemed to know what she was doing, and vaguely wondered if it was a habit of her and Setzer's. She had, after all, been a barmaid for two years, and could certainly tell the difference between a good drink and a bad one. Idly she wondered just what kind of life Setzer and Celes were living.

Celes walked back, a glass in each hand, this time choosing to sit next to Tifa. She smiled gratefully as she sipped on the drink and blinked rapidly as if to dull the taste; it was certainly stronger than Setzer's concoction. Next to her Celes was smiling, and it was not as harsh this time. Perhaps it might be beneficial to have Celes on board; after all, Tifa did not care to imagine just how awkward it would be with only her and the gambler.

Just as Celes was about to say something more, the ship suddenly shook as if it had been hit, turning almost one-eighty degrees in one go. Panicking, Tifa turned to Celes who only looked calm.

"Looks like we're going to see the kings."


End file.
